Then she would clench her hands and determine more fiercely than ever
to banish such memories. But with all her will, hardly for ten minutes
at a time could she keep Gritzko from her thoughts. His influence over
her was growing into an obsession.

She wondered why he did not come. She would not ask her godmother. The
three days passed in a feverish, gnawing unrest; and on the third
evening they went to the ballet again.

Opposite them, in a box, a very dark young woman was seated. She had a
hard, determined face, and she was well dressed, and not too covered
with jewels.

"That is a celebrated lady," Count Valonne said. "You must look at her,
Madame Loraine; she was one of the best dancers at the ballet, and last
year she tried to commit suicide in a charmingly dramatic way at one of
Gritzko's parties. She was at the time perhaps his _chère amie_--
one never knows, but in all cases violently in love with him--and is
still, for the matter of that--or so it is said--and in the middle of
rather a wild feast he was giving for her, she suddenly drank off some
poison, after making the terrifying announcement of her intention! We
were all petrified with horror, but he remained quite calm, and,
seizing her, he poured a whole bottle of salad oil down her throat, and
then sent for a doctor!--Of course the poor lady recovered, and the
romantic end was quite _raté!_--She was perfectly furious, one
heard--and married a rich slate merchant the week after. Wasn't it like
Gritzko? He said the affair was vulgar, and he sent her a large diamond
bracelet, and never spoke to her again!"

Tamara felt her cheeks burn--and her pride galled her more than ever.